Thursday, September 27, 2007

car: *beep*me: call homecar: pound. say call, dial, or continue to add numbersme: cancelcar: returning to the main menu--me: call homecar: would you like to call. Don?me: cancelcar: returning to the ma--me: call housecar: would you like to call. Home?me: YES!!!

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Anything that happened to you in recent memory you tell me happened yesterday. If I tell you that it wasn't yesterday, that it happened a while ago, you ask me if it happened "when I was a baby? when I was two?"

You tell me over and over, "When I grow up I am going to teach you lots of things. Like how to make dinner and breakfast and munch." I can't wait, sweetie. I look forward to those days.

Quite a while ago, you found a plus sign that goes with some number toys that we have, and you asked me what it was. I told you it was a plus sign, and you asked what it was for. I said that it was for putting things together. Then I asked you, if you had one of something, and then you had two more of something, how many would you have. You thought, and you looked at a couple of your fingers, and you told me three. I was, needless to say, extremely impressed.

You have gotten in the habit, on the way home from school, of asking me what I did while I was gone. Two days ago I told you that I had gone to the grocery store, and then gone home and done some work, and that was about all. You prompted me, "and Ben had a rest?" I replied that yes, Ben had rested, at which point you told me in an accusatory tone, "you left that out!" And daddy wonders why I give him so many details when he asks me about my day.

Last Sunday Daddy and I were very tired, and we tried to bring you and Ben into our bed to snuggle. That was a complete failure. At one point you popped out from under the covers and offered me some "chickets". I couldn't figure out what you were talking about. Chickens? Nope. Chiclets? Nope. Then you elaborated. "Chickets for the roller coaster." Ahh, of course. Chickets.

Ben:

You continue to try to charm and flirt with almost everyone we encounter. You're really quite good at it. Today you offered a woman at the car dealership your precious balloon from Trader Joe's. Then you continued to make eyes at her until she left. Fortunately she escaped before you realized that it was over an hour past your naptime, and the rest of the waiting room was treated to one of your ear-piercing shrieks, until I managed to get my stuff together, and get the stroller outside.

You pronounce both cricket and yogurt "greckit".

You love to eat cereal bars, but you call them "mallomars" every single time. I encourage it because I think it is so adorable.

You call just about anything that moves a truck. Although you also say truck to mean "what is that thing, Mommy?" It's a little confusing sometimes.

Bicycles, motorcycles, and popsicles are all pronounced "cock-icle". And once there is any mention of a frozen treat on a stick you absolutely refuse to eat anymore dinner, regardless of how much you were enjoying it.

When you are pretending to go to sleep on the floor you tell us, "nee-night", but when I put you to bed you refuse to say goodnight, and just say "bye" as you wave to me from inside your crib.

The other day Claire and I were singing songs as I sat on the bathroom floor and she sat on the toilet (what? doesn't everyone spend their days like this?), and she asked for Row, Row, Row Your Boat. I sang it with her, and you started to sing along. You loved the Row, Row, Row part. Then we got to "merrily merrily merrily merrily", and you chimed in, "melamine, melamine, melamine, melamine".

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Yesterday after picking Claire up from school we were going to swing by Brian's office to drop off some papers for him to fax. I had taken the diaper bag out of the car the day before to refill it, and hadn't put it back in, but I didn't plan on needing it (mistake #1).

A few minutes before we arrived at Brian's office he called and asked if we'd had lunch yet. Since we hadn't we decided to all have lunch together in the food court at the mall. We picked him up, went to the mall, ordered our food and sat eating, when Brian noticed a distinct odor coming from Ben's diaper. I wasn't too worried (mistake #2) because we were almost done, and would be home soon and I could change his diaper.

As we left the food court Ben was walking beside Brian holding his hand, and Claire and I were next to them, when suddenly Brian stopped in the middle of the floor and looked at Ben. One side of his diaper had come undone, and so his diaper was hanging halfway out of his shorts. Rather than trying to unsnap his bottom, refasten the dirty diaper, and resnap him, Brian just pulled it the rest of the way off (mistake #3) and found the nearest trash can. So we fastened Ben into his carseat with no diaper, and headed home. Of course when I got home what did I find? Of course. He had peed. So I had to strip him down, wash him, and put on a clean diaper and clothes. Fun.

What else could go wrong? Half an hour later Claire could be having so much fun playing with her "kite" (a helium balloon that no longer floated) that she neglected to go to the bathroom and peed all over the couch.

Saturday, September 08, 2007

All morning Brian and I have sternly been telling Ben, "NO! No throwing! We don't throw blocks!" Before Claire woke up this usually resulted in him lying down on the floor (putting himself in timeout? trying to appear invisible? who knows) curled up in the fetal position. And then moments later he is fooling around with the blocks again.

Now Claire is awake, and is building a high! tower! with some help, and a lot of hindrance from her brother. (Everytime he successfully stacks a block he exclaims, "dadadaDAH!") Then Ben tossed a block high in the air, and got reprimanded loudly by both myself and Brian. Moments later I heard Claire murmur, "Ben, I love you, but we don't throw blocks. I love you, buddy, but no throwing." So cute!

My kids amaze me. Really. Everyday they do or say something to surprise me. Lately I have been watching them play together, and it never fails to make me smile.

A week or so ago I was working on something downstairs, and the two of them disappeared upstairs. "Come on, Ben! It's ok, Mommy. I'm bringing him." And off they went holding hands and smiling. So I finished up what I was doing, the whole time trying to figure out which room they were in, and where and what the mess would be when I finally went upstairs. As I headed up the stairs I heard quiet giggles coming from Claire's room. I anticipated seeing all of the clothes pulled from her dresser, or all of the toys from the closet scattered on the floor, but no. They were both sitting on her bed, pulling the covers over themselves to hide, and giggling non-stop. It was adorable.

Last night as I was putting the finishing touches on dinner they each took one of the kitchen towels, and claimed a piece of real estate on the kitchen floor. "I'm sleeping here tonight. Good night," announced Claire. "Nee niigh. Nee niigh." Ben repeated over and over again. And they would giggle, and pull a towel over themselves, and wiggle, and giggle some more. "Nee nigh!" After a while they moved to the family room. And then the trouble started. Amidst the whining I heard Brian, "No, Claire! You can't pull the pillow out from under his head! Give him one of the towels. He was using that, give it back to him. No, that's Ben's blanket. Fine, if you want that pillow give him the other one." But only a few minutes later, again I could hear, "Good night, Ben!" "Nee nigh! Nee nigh!" And more giggling.

Yes, my kids like to clink their popsicles together and say "cheers!" Is that strange?

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Yesterday was Claire's first day at her new preschool. She was excited to go, although the night before she had tried to convince me that she was only 2, not 3, and couldn't go to her new school. That only lasted until I listed all the birthday presents she had received that she would have to return if she hadn't turned 3. Then she decided she was 3 again.

Posing for the camera.

Showing off her new backpack.

Cheesing it up.

So far things seem to have gone well. She didn't cry when I left her yesterday, though others in her class were crying. Her teacher did have to disengage a fistful of my hair from her hand before I could get out the door, but no tears was good. She walked out with a smile on her face, although I couldn't get much information out of her about her day. After much questioning I found out that she had gone down a slide, and showed the other kids how to roll up the workmats. At dinner we finally discovered that she'd learned how to open eggs, and they had shapes inside of them. When asked what they did with the shapes she replied, "nuffin!"

Today she went in and gave her teacher a hug, and let me go without having to unwind her limbs from around my neck. She came out with her teacher with big smiles, and as we pulled out of the parking lot she said, "I had a great day at school today!" So naturally I asked her what she had done. "Nuffin!" Alright then. It appears that they read a story about a pancake who left the house and went far away. And she went down the slide. She still insists that they don't give her snack, but that's usually when she's trying to negotiate for a treat, so I'm not sure I believe it.

Tomorrow will be interesting as it is the first day with the older kids at school. Since it is a Montessori school each classroom has kids from ages 3-5. The first two days of school were just for new students, so there were only 8-10 kids in each class, but tomorrow the returning students are back, so there will definitely be more happening. We'll see what she says about that.